EARTH'S UPPER ATMOSPHERE, 2284"Shuttle Surak, you are cleared for entry to Starfleet airspace."
She held his hand. It had been one hell of a summer--with a terrific payoff. She now was sole possessor of that one she loved best.
He worked the controls, and looked into her eyes, and there felt a contentment he once thought impossible for one such as himself.
"Husband."
"Wife."
It wasn't like a dream come true. It was a dream come true. Saavik and Peter were now married, challenge or no.
It was a dream disrupted by weapons' fire.
"Shuttle Surak--this is Dock 1. Accidental weapons discharge here. Are you hit?"
Peter shook his head. They were becoming more and more blatant.
"Yes, Dock 1--we are hit. Requesting emergency transport."
There was laughter on the other end. Light, but detectable.
"Wouldn't you know it—transporters are offline."
More fire rocked the light shuttle.
"Boy--are we gonna be on report or what? Goodbye, folks."
The incident would never be recorded or reported.
Saavik felt the wind from the opened doorway. She looked out.
"Peterkam--it is a decidedly long way down."
He smiled.
"Not to worry, love--I know where all the soft spots are."
She gulped.
"My psychokinesis is not yet the equal of yours. Can you handle getting us both down?"
He shook his head.
"Actually, either of us could do it. But we mustn't be seen. We need an alternate route."
He sat down at the opened door, his legs sticking out.
"Saavik--grab onto the impulse nacelle."
She was a supportive, traditional Vulcan wife.
"Are you insane?"
He dropped out.
"Let's hope not."
To any potential onlookers, it would merely seem that Peter gained the right momentum to clutch the nacelle, and that Saavik followed suit. They used their abilities only subtly, here.
"Now what, Husband? I don't wish to merely hang around here."
Peter did not answer the joke--not that it deserved one. He inched his way forward, like on a rope. Smashing open a panel, he grabbed a quick look at it, then adjusted settings he hoped still worked.
"Wife, I've set the nacelle to detach, and move us forward at its very lowest setting. That's the good news."
She nodded.
"And the inverse?"
"That lowest setting is 67 KpH!"
She took this in stride, as befitted a daughter of The House Of Surak.
"Oh....Shit!"
Just to keep himself alert, Peter calculated that in old counting, they were going just over 200 miles per hour, straight down. The fallen shuttle, going much faster than that, passed them in flames.
"Sarek's favorite shuttle!"
"Saavikkam--don't go there, ok?"
Peter's eyes began to glow. Saavik took note.
"What are you doing?"
"Beginning to slow our descent. I'm cutting the engine."
Both their hands were burned, but they would heal quickly. Splattering or exposure of their abilities would not.
Up above, Peter's power plugged up a loose end.
"Sir--we have them in our sights!"
The Director Of Dock 1 smiled.
"Fire!"
That part of Dock 1 and the Hall's Agents that inhabited it were destroyed by their own suppressed firing mechanisms.
Down below, the engine was cut, and Peter climbed on top of the nacelle, nodding at Saavik to do the same.
"Peter--what do you call this precarious balancing act?"
"Easy--they laid out a net to trap us--we're just surfing on it."
To many below, the event was spectacular, but conceivable. The nacelle hit the top of a hill, and Peter and Saavik rode it down to within meters of the Vulcan Embassy—safe ground.
A legitimate Rescue crew arrived, and was amazed. They soon had the young couple's minor injuries well cared for. Saavik looked up from a cup of coffee.
"Our thanks, sir. A most timely intervention."
Peter liked his hot chocolate. Abilities or no, he needed warmth, right then.
"Yes, sir. Your team's efficiency is quite admirable."
The man shrugged.
"Just doing our job, Cadets. What we all admire is your luck, Mister---"
He who was The Rock looked up.
"The name is Kirk---Peter Kirk."
-----------------------------------------
The master of stealth moved through the labyrnith that was Admiralty Hall. Camo-Tech firmly in place, silent on a dozen levels, including the mental, the spy's feet never touched the floor, never broke a beam.
None who happened to catch glimpse of the spy lived to tell of it.
A throat was cut.
A body incinerated.
A heart was pulped by thereverberations of Jeet-Kune-Do, practiced and perfected in Vulcan's heat and dry air.
No one would be found or thought missing until it was far too late.
The spy bypassed the main Records room altogether. No, what they sought would not be there. Far too obvious.
The unseen one resisted the urge to laugh at the members of Section 31, whispered of and so dreaded. They may as well have been the Royal Guards at Buckingham Palace, as far as the spy was concerned. Never heard, never seen. They couldn't react to what they didn't know of.
Sifting through several false files, left as decoys, the spy found the Grail. It was all true. The Hall was planning a total coup as soon as Ghidorah was sighted. Copying and then replacing the information, the spy jumped over walls, without any effort.
Sleeping in his quarters, Peter Kirk woke up and saw the spy above him. A sword-blade was pressed against his heart. The spy stated the obvious.
"You are dead."
Peter nodded.
"Will you use me before you kill me?"
The spy fell into bed with her husband.
"Only if you have done all your chores."
Peter kissed his wife, and smiled.
"My homework, your homework, our reports--and Sarek wants us to meet someone tomorrow. What did you get?"
Saavik recounted her trip, and then its disturbing results.
"Arrest lists, bombardment targets, hidden fleets of new Excelsior-Class ships. Add to that, a so-called 'Tholian killer' experimental ship, named after the first starship lost to Tholian activity. Peter, they mean to own the Federation when they are done."
He nodded.
"With their power base, its not too far a leap, is it? Uncle Jim is just about the only one left they haven't killed, punished or co-opted in some way."
He tried to steer the sneakiest person he knew away from the grim findings.
"I made vegetarian Sloppy Joe. We have Pita shells, to put them in."
Saavik smiled.
"Had. Past tense. It was all quite delicious."
He shook his head.
"You, wife--are a pig!"
"Then, husband--logic dictates that you should make me squeal."
Peter never argued with true logic.
The next morning, Cartwright was, of course, furious. He stared at the shadowed head of Section 31.
"Our plans are known to the enemy, now. How the hell did they get in this far, without your men noticing?"
The Head shrugged.
"A minor oversight, Admiral. The men in question have all been replaced. Besides, what does this information have that really tells the enemy anything new?"
Unable to argue the point and unable to simply arrest The Kirks, Brock Cartwright continued his plans of Academic harassment.
The head, now in private, turned to an equally shadowy underling.
"You go do your job, as you were told. Things are proceeding nicely, here. The Hall is agitated and Sarek's little crusaders are getting overconfident. Soon--all will be pure, clean void--such as sustains only us."
----------------------------------------------
Sarek introduced the two young operatives to someone they already knew.
"Children--meet our eyes and ears within Starfleet Command. As The Hall presses to corrupt more of the structure, she shall let us know of their movements."
Doctor Christine Chapel hugged each of the children.
"Working with you two--it'll almost be like old times again."
But neither of the newlyweds ever liked or trusted old times. And the new times had danger quite literally around every corner.
----------------------------------------
Sarek was direct and to the point, as was his wont. Despite his illness, he was still a pure Vulcan, and when given purpose, amazing to behold.
"It is not enough to simply wipe the Hall away, as either of you are capable of doing. To demolish an empty house is of no worth, and it would be politically useful to them, possibly enabling them to accelerate their plans for a coup. I have no doubt but that they are searching for an excuse to do so, even as we speak."
The surreality of this meeting was lost on neither Peter nor Saavik. The Ambassador From Vulcan, a man who was to peace treaties what James Kirk was to space exploration, was directing them in a mission of sabotage and eventual terrorism against Starfleet Command's top echelon. They themselves were becoming more skilled every day and in every way in the arts of espionage and silent killing. Yet it was all necessary. Nothing less than the ultimate fate of creation lay in the balance. This was no mere emotional hyperbole, either. This was fact.
Saavik raised a concern.
"S, how do we make certain that we have, to use your term, a full house when the Hall is brought low?"
S--for Sri, or Father. S--for Sarek. A name that could mean anything, even Spock or Standard-Bearer, The Captain Of Starfleet's Flagship. It was impersonal, and that was how Sarek preferred it. He was possibly sending these two children he held dear to their deaths. He needed to remain aloof from them, as well as an Amanda who bristled under house arrest back on Vulcan, to keep her out of The Order's clutches. No matter the declining state of his emotional control, he would be Sarek Of Vulcan one last time. No quips. No jokes. Merely the mission, which was the preservation of peace by means of a deadly and final war. Just as they had done to the Ghidoran Order on Vulcan, so would they do here on Earth.
"I am glad you asked that, Saavik. We shall use bait to draw them all there. We shall give them the one thing they want most. The thing they need to complete their wretched plans, and call Ghidorah here to our space."
Peter Kirk nodded. At times, his icy calm spooked both Vulcans. He was clearly his father's son, as evidenced by his next words.
"That, S--would be myself. Hmmm. We'll have to do it in such a way as to make them believe they took me. Anything else will have some of them scurrying for cover. They're good for that."
Saavik, knowing the importance of the mission, kept her true feelings back. Inwardly, though, she cursed both her husband and the man she cared for and called Father. They both seemed awfully willing to make her an early widow. Sarek continued.
"Indeed, Peter. But it must be more than a successful capture. It must be a capture made while you are moving against them. It must be part of an already large gathering, one that can then be used as cause to corral in all stragglers, so to speak. Lastly—we must find a means--- Daughter---by which Peter's safety and well-being are assured, somehow. You will reign in your emotions, Saavikkam, lest they be all our undoing."
Saavik nodded. Sarek had always given her leeway, emotionally. Now it was time to pay him back for that freedom with a little discipline. She had that discipline. She hoped.
"Apologies, S. It is merely an odd thing to play aggressor in this war. I am as yet unused to it."
Peter seconded his wife.
"S--if I go into that Hall, they'll have a terawattage psi-supressor on-line. My abilities will be useless. I don't know if I can go in, bombs strapped to my back. Also, the odds of our happening upon a large enough gathering are approximately---"
Sarek cut him off.
"Peter--I have come to care for you as I do my own son. But you shall cease to question my directives. Rest assured, we shall find all the openings we need. Certain--parties--have assured me of this."
Peter's eyes shifted.
"Certain parties--who appear as members of your own family?"
Saavik knew of whom they spoke.
"What do these parties expect in return?"
Sarek nodded, lightly.
"They spoke of a great and precious delivery, of a jewel that is exchanged for a lump of sand."
Peter was more sarcastic about these words than he intended.
"How odd that they should say that. Usually, they're quite vague."
Sarek allowed this only because of his own frustration with these non-linear beings. But a slight glare at Peter set him straight, nevertheless.
"Until we can see the endgame, and the path to it, we must work to determine how to disable Section 31. If we can harm 31, then the Hall's information center is also harmed. They will never move forward without their omniscient arm. Saavik, report."
She nodded.
"I now realize that they must have detected me. Yet for reasons of their own, they let me have their plans. While knowing these generalities is of dubious value, I cannot believe that the Hall would wish me to have them. Logic then clearly indicates a split between the two powers. Perhaps they never were the monolith we envisioned."
Peter was given leave to speak, next.
"S, I encountered a group of 31 operatives while trying to locate the recruitment facility in Colorado I was brought to some 15 years ago. When I punched one square in the jaw--I nearly broke my hand. Definite cybernetic enhancement--perhaps even bone replacement. They tossed me about. My strength is Terra Multiplier 25. Theirs must be at about 100."
Sarek took all this in, as calmly as any true Vulcan would.
"I will ask our weapons and device supplier to craft EM-pulse weaponry, capable of disrupting cybernetics. Now, go to your classes. By coded message, your assignments for this evening will be sent to you before lunchtime. You have a job to do. It is best you do it well."
So the two set out for the day, to give their enemies hell.
-----------------------------------------------
VULCAN
Amanda sensed her protectors move like lightning. The Honor Guards Of House Surak were no mere showpieces, and only Peter and Saavik knew how to use a lirpa better. At last, the Lead Guard emerged.
"Gracious Lady, There Was No Attack. The Sanctity And Safety Of The House Of Houses Remains Inviolate. I Ask Leave To Retire. I Have Enjoyed Serving You."
Amanda nodded, fighting back the urge to hug a guard who had been with her since she married Sarek. A guard who would only ever retire--if her wounds were fatal.
"Thy Service Does Thee Credit. I Have Known Safety In Thy Gaze."
The guard nodded.
"You once called me your friend, Lady. I count that among my greatest honors."
Suddenly, a knife barely missed Amanda. A young Vulcan male shouted furiously. The Lead Guard, in her last act, utterly destroyed him. Her last words were pure Vulcan, and indicative of The Order's corrosive reach.
"Thee are a disgrace. I have one less great-grandson, for thee were as one stillborn. I never held thee, Nor taught thee of Peace and War. I grieve for my third granddaughter, who never had a son. It is done."
She died as she had lived, and Amanda felt a part of herself die along with her, as rage consumed her soul.
"Make them pay, Sarek-kam. Make them pay hard, and long, and painfully."
---------------------------------------------
EARTH, BENIN IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY
The masked man with the phaser smiled. Professor Taouru and his wife, a noted clothes merchant, were not smiling.
"The origins of life, Professor? The creation of The Olduvai Pit? I could tell you it all. But a message must be sent. To Kirk. To your daughter. To anyone who would oppose The Order."
Apida Uhura smiled.
"Should we now purchase a little dog, that you can get him too?"
The 31 agent drew back his gun-butt. But Apida's face was never marred. A hand burst through the wall, and pulled the agent back.
"The mighty and powerful Section 31 has to resort to picking on academics and merchants? How anal can you get?"
The eyes of the agent shifted.
"Primary target acquired. I repeat, I am engaging in battle with Peter Kirk. All units activate!"
Peter kicked the agent square in the crotch. He was then thankful that he chose to wear steel-toes, because this agent was made out of the same material as the others. Finding the small of the man's back, he placed the patch that Sarek had given him. A small EM-pulse shorted out the agent's cyber-net, and sent a disruptor signal out to his alerted compatriots. When the enemy agent began to transport out, Peter grabbed back the disc, so it could not be analyzed. He wondered where Sarek had gotten so precise a weapon from. For now, though, he merely nodded at the Professor and Lady Upida.
"Ma'am--sir. Please don't mention this to Nyota or Jim. I have to go."
But Upida slammed down her walking spirit-staff.
"Young man--did or did not my daughter adopt you into our clan? Become your mother by choice, and by soul?"
Peter nodded.
"That she did."
She smiled.
"Then tradition since time out of mind dictates--you give your grandmother a hug and a kiss."
The Professor nodded.
"Kid--be smart. Just have lunch with us--or face some very bad luck. And I'm not joking, when I say that. She's a nightmare, about these matters."
And Peter, sitting and talking with these kind people, wondered why fate couldn't have placed him with them instead of Brianna.
----------------------------------------------
VULCAN CONSULATE, SAN FRANCISCO
Sarek nodded at his weapons-crafter.
"It worked as you said it would. But they are a resilient lot. They'll plan around it, next time."
The trickster laughed.
"Let them. The Order has always been the most stereotypical group of arrogant mortals ever to make a pompous speech--and I should know. Perhaps my people can't strike at Ghidorah, directly. But I can help humiliate his servants. Its who I am. Its what I do. Well, the new cloak is finished. It should frustrate even 31's sensors--for now. Something weird and unscannable about that bunch. Good day, Sarek--or should I call you S?"
Sarek watched the flash of light as his ally departed.
"Good day....Q."
-------------------------------------------------
There was The Hall, where the Admiralty lived. There was The Fleet Commons, where those The Hall could not control or destroy did their business--none of them above the rank of Commodore since Cartwright replaced Nogura.
But The Delicatessen was common ground. The food was good, good enough that no one wanted to play with its staff. Information could be obtained by any means. But finding a good sandwich? Nearly impossible.
At The Deli, it was a common tactic of The Hall's to attempt to recruit members of The Fleet who they saw as vulnerable. Naturally, while gaining a former member of Kirk's own staff would be a great victory for the xenophobes, Commander Doctor Christine Chapel had long since said that she was not interested.
But on this day, she was very interested in what members of the Hall had to say. More precisely, Sarek was interested, and Christine Chapel reported to him in his crusade to destroy The Hall and Section 31.
Her listening device caught it all.
"Sure they want the Kirk brat back, but that's just insurance. HE's coming, no matter what."
"Its the kids that'll make the difference. The Cadet-Masters, the fresher, newer Captains-In-Waiting. They're so fanatic, they make Cartwright nervous. They all took the soul-pledge without blinking."
"The Enterprise? When the coup comes, they're first on the arrest list. They want JTK alive, for trial. I've got a box seat."
With the device defeating sound dampeners and scramblers, Christine merely wandered the Buffet, catching what she could.
"We'll enact Humans-Only laws; The others will secede--that's illegal.
Bing-bang-boom--Martial Law!"Much of it was innocuous, albeit bigoted. Some was bone-chilling in its implications. Christine decided to leave it to Sarek to separate wheat from chaff.
Leaving, though, she was stopped.
"Doctor Chapel--you've been asked to appear before The Hall's committee on anti-Command activities."
Her face showed an appropriate amount of concern. But then hope appeared.
"Doctor Chapel? I'm here to escort you to the Embassy Function."
All the Hall operatives turned. And Saw. And Gulped.
"Kirk."
"Peter Kirk."
"Do we have anybody here who could---"
"As if. Just be quiet and hope he doesn't notice you."
Christine removed her arm from the grasp of the man from 31--she presumed—and instead gave it to her former Captain's charming nephew, who glared at the assemblage as he left. As he walked out, his wife entered.
"Get out of here. Now. I have brought my lirpa."
And so the bigots left, and Saavik had a carrot salad.
-----------------------------------------------
Christine made her report.
Her superior was pleased.
"Doctor Chapel---this information is invaluable. It confirms much of my speculation on The Hall's thinking."
She smiled.
"Glad to help, Sarek."
--------------------------------------------
Christine made her report.
Her superior was pleased.
"Excellent, Doctor. Sarek thinks he has valuable insights, when all he has are some underlings talking trash."
She nodded.
"Just doing my sworn duty, Admiral Cartwright, sir. I lost my love for what's out there when my fiancée became a monster, an alien thing of circuit boards and plastic parts. A monster that posed as human--as so many others do."
-----------------------------------------------
Christine made her report.
Her superior was pleased.
"Sarek thinks he has a pipeline, Cartwright thinks he has a mole, and we have them both dancing to our tune. Wonderful work, CC2. Here's To Life Without End!"
She smiled.
"To Section 31--and Life Without End, RK3."
---------------------------------------------
PERSONAL JOURNAL - SAREK OF VULCAN"The war continues, and with each enemy life taken, we stand one step closer to rendering the Admiralty's vast underground army of hate mere renegades, instead of the legitimate authority. I also feel that each life costs me a bit of my soul. Although I loathe referring to my fellow sentients as enemies, and to my enemies as soulless, I fear I have no choice. Indoctrinated in hate, they regard me as an animal, and my dear wife as some kind of traitor to her race. I have read their manifestos. My illness—my loss of emotional control--was never more keenly felt."
"My worst crime perhaps lies not in their deaths or my feelings about them. It lies in my children, who are becoming better and more proficient killers. But then, they were born to kill the oldest thing alive. If they are monsters, now--then the monsters of this evil Order created them as such."
"There is my beautiful Saavik. Child, even before my disease was revealed, and began its inevitable course, I desired greatly to hear you call me grandfather. But to tell you the Truth would shatter Spock--and there has been enough sorrow between us. You know ways to shatter a man that few others would dream of. But it has never been your desire. Still, when your lirpa has severed those three last heads, can you then know your worth and forgive Stern Vulcan enough to embrace her ways once more?"
"Peter Kirk. Like his father, all of humanity in one package. But he seeks peace--I have touched his soul, and know it as only a few others do. Truly, he is The Rock. He calls me Father, on occasion. Sam Kirk was worthless as a parent. James Kirk feels honor-bound to not yet acknowledge his son. Therefore, I feel that in his case, Father is no mere honorific to the head of household, but an honored title that I have earned. When he came to us, he was a shattered thing, his time in Hell having eaten him alive. Now, he is husband to my little heart. I would allow myself to feel pride at how far he has come, no matter my own circumstance."
"Together, it is these two who will face Ghidorah in final combat. But for now, they face the rapacious mortals who worship The Ancient Destroyer. Unlike barely-sentient Ghidorah, these fiends are plotters and planners. But in their greed and fear and hate, they will leave us an opening. When they do--I must then send my children forward to gut and destroy the branch of The Federation they have sworn to serve. Many lives will be lost, then. Many more in the chaos that is sure to follow. All we can hope to stop is The Order's Command and Control functions. The cells will still be out there, waiting to rise at the first sighting of their dragon. The coup will still occur, only without legal basis. So ours is a mission of blood and corruption, destined and designed on many levels to end in complete failure."
"At times, the only things that keep me focused are the deep bond my children share with one another, my Amanda--and the interpreted words of Surak. The needs of the Universe outweigh the needs of my family or myself. As to this war, and what we have had to do to prosecute it?"
"Kaidith."
-----------------------------------------
Captain Kirk was confident.
"Has the neutrino burst defeated their cloak mechanisms?"
Helm responded.
"Aye, sir."
"Have we managed to stay out of even their wildest claim zones?"
"Maintaining so-called Madman's Distance, Captain."
Peter smiled. A few more tweaks, and The Kobayashi Maru was his.
"Rebalance tractor beam through warp engines---engage!"
Through a billion twists and turns, Peter had seen the damned thing through. Each event the computer had tossed up had been dealt with--and quite effectively. "Captain--the Kobayashi Maru is safely in the auxiliary shuttlebay. Engineering has a manual switch ready to jettison--force fields in place--no bombs, sir."
The computer yielded up two words it had only yielded up once before--about thirty years ago, to Peter's father.
"Mission Accomplished."
But instead of the cheers of his crew, Peter heard dozens of phasers charging all at once. His first officer smiled.
"Problem is, sir---no one actually wins The Kobayashi Maru. I gotta hand it to you, though--you handled it all, and never panicked. You would have made a good Captain--had you lived. Your usefulness to The Order is at an end."
Peter reasoned it all out. False surface thoughts. A now fully-active psi-supressor. And a crew that all wanted him dead. He looked the XO in the eye.
"Mine is at an end. But yours never began."
Peter then seized the officer, and hurled him at the turbolift doors. Thinking their enemy had made a run for it, the trigger-happy cadets blasted their leader to pieces.
Peter made for the ladder-way. Running the halls, he took note of something.
"This--is a big simulation."
He stopped, and looked out the viewport. There were no grey walls beyond it—just space, cold and harsh. It hit him, then.
"I'm aboard a Starship!"
And the doors were not about to open.
----------------------------------------------
"So, Cadet--you worked on the Holography exhibit on Surak day? Most impressive. Care to take a crack at getting this new suite on-line?"
Saavik stared in wonder.
"An entire suite--with seven dedicated holographic projectors?"
The instructor nodded.
"Imported from the so-called 'Shore Leave' world. Some day, we hope to have at least one installed in every starship. Perhaps several of them."
"What then, needs to be done?"
"Some cadets complained of what they called Lock-Up. Just go in and see if you can discern between reality and the holosuite's projections. With a logical eye, we should be able to make the appropriate adjustments."
Saavik went in, and the arch closed.
"Computer--recreate Vulcan, Midday --The Forge."
The air was a bit hotter than normal, but not as dry.
"Computer--turn down overall temperature, and decrease humidity."
A voice that sounded vaguely like Christine Chapel's chimed back.
"Unable to comply."
Saavik raised an eyebrow.
"Computer--increase humidity to 87 percent. Cause it to rain."
Again.
"Unable to comply."
Saavik nodded. She tried a different tack.
"Computer--populate the desert with indigenous flora and fauna. But exclude the
lemataya."In an instant, the hills nearby were full--with hungry lemataya--and only hungry lemataya. Saavik felt her heart skip.
"Computer, safeties at maximum."
"Safeties are disabled."
Saavik knew how to kill lemataya. But lemataya knew how to kill her better. She came to a conclusion.
"This holodeck technology--leaves much to be desired."
---------------------------------------------
Her hands were bloody, and raw. Around her lay scores of dead lemataya. Her self-control was beginning to slip, and she was both hungry and thirsty.
Saavik barked a command to the Computer, hoping against hope.
"Computer--exit holosuite. Arch!"
But in that same irritatingly calm voice, the computer again denied her.
"Re-initializing Vulcan Forge At Midday. Population : 200 lemataya."
Saavik didn't bother to hide her annoyance.
"Computer--why do you refuse my every command?"
In fact, the young Vulcan newlywed knew full well why. The Order had programmed it to kill her. But she reasoned that, somewhere in the computer's specific response to her query, she would find a clue to help her defeat this trap.
"This unit is programmed to create the Vulcan Forge at Midday, and only the Vulcan Forge at Midday, and to populate it with lemataya."
Saavik, in the midst of fighting off a second wave of predators, thought she saw a way out. But it would have to wait til she had a clear field again--and if she lived to make use of it.
--------------------------------------------------
ADMIRALTY HALL
Admiral Cartwright sat before a number of his direct subordinates.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, you were all assigned a vital and unique task. The capture and/or deaths of the Kirk couple. Now, I don't recall telling you to set up elaborate traps, or to imprison them with your supposedly very best guards standing watch in another room. My orders were quite clear--have them comatose or have them dead."
The nervous twitches all around were quite noticeable. So Cartwright smiled.
"Gentlemen--this is the Real Starfleet. Not the kind that musters out good men like Tracy and Garth, while praising xenophilic trash like Kirk, Brandt, Durant, and their ilk. In short, we have no intention of wasting your lives with a phaser bolt. No, what you get right now is a simple admonishment to do better--and a transport to your homes. Good Bye."
As audible sighs of relief came, so did the transport beam. But as each minor official reached their home, they suddenly gasped for air, and began coughing up blood and brains. They were all dead within thirty seconds.
The reason lay in their seats, back at The Hall. Cartwright stared at their still-beating hearts, throbbing in their chairs. The guards scooped them up, and brought them to the sacrifice chamber, to be offered up to Ghidorah, who actually hadn't eaten a heart since he killed Gamera, aeons ago.
"Some people simply take that ancient song far, far too seriously."
The next group of failures was mustered in.
"People--I have two questions for you. Is Lord Ghidorah in our Quadrant? I would like to know for certain whether it was he who wiped away The Breen."
A series of heads shook, and then the leader of the survey teams spoke.
"Admiral-sir. Master Of The Order. We regret to report that Mighty Ghidorah continues to test his believers by eluding our long-range scan. We will yet overcome that puzzle our Lord has shown to us. This I swear."
Cartwright stood up.
"Fair enough. Now, who can tell me the origin of the device I'm wearing on my belt?"
Their answers were much quicker, this time.
"We believe it to be Kelvan in origin, Admiral."
"And in that, you would be correct."
The Grand Admiral then turned on the belt, and reduced the survey team to polyhedron cubes. He then stepped over, and crushed each one beneath his heel.
"But in The Order, one out of two just doesn't cut it."
The final group was brought in, having witnessed it all.
"You all are quite aware how loathe I am to turn our intelligence activities almost completely over to Section 31. But when you go out and then fail to secure proper information for us on the activities of The Order on other worlds, you increase our dependence on a frankly undependable ally."
Some of the operatives were out and out stunned to hear this. They had always thought of Section 31 as not an ally, but a servant of The Hall. A man whom Cartwright had known since his early court-martial stepped forward.
"Brock--listen to me. Infiltrating The Order on other worlds is nearly impossible. By definition, those people hate us as much as we hate them. Besides--as to what they're doing, I'd presume they're preparing for Ghidrah's coming, as we are, to see who gets spared."
Cartwright maintained his eternal facade of civilization and conducted himself like the presiding officer he was.
"So--despite the fact that they have almost certainly infiltrated us--you cannot or will not damp your toes to return the favor and find out what those animals are really up to. Moreover--you choose to blaspheme his holy name."
The operative shrugged.
"Blasphemy--what blasphemy?"
Cartwright tsked him unmercifully.
"His name---is Ghidorah."
"That's what I said."
"No--you said Ghidrah. Ghidrah is a poor Standardization. Ghidorah--is Truth."
The others Admirals chanted the word with Cartwright.
"Truth."
"Truth."
"Truth."
"Truth."
The man knew his fate, and so ran with it.
"Brock--you are a freaking Psycho! All of you are. I've served The Hall because I believed The Hall WAS Starfleet. But George Kirk was right--'In Isolation, Madness'. Spit on you, Brock--and spit on your precious three-headed worm!"
Cartwright smiled.
"As you say. Transporter--activate."
One and all, the failed spies found themselves declothed and bound in a room they recognized as belonging to Admiral Teresa Bunson. Besides their clothing, they found something else missing. Cartwright's one-time XO shouted.
"Brock--what did you do to us?!"
But only a nude, limber Bunson appeared, ready as ever.
"Its a unique property of the transporter, when properly manipulated. It removes certain key sequences from your rybo-viroxic-nucleic structure. The puberty gene, if you will."
All around the sick pedophile were former full-grown adults, now all 12-year old children. Grown enough to truly use--but not too old for her twisted tastes.
"Now, boys and girls--you'll find out what I do to the little ones you've so nicely brought me, over all these years. I'll have fun---you won't. Humanity, as ever, prevails. Ghidorah. And speaking of three heads...."
One by one, they all learned what The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer was really about. Their last conscious thoughts were not pleasant ones.
------------------------------------------
As Peter Kirk ran, he found each and every accessway blocked--but no guards. Aboard the moving starship, the taunting voice of Jepric--his former roommate—blared out.
"Technically speaking, this is the end, Cadet Kirk. My remaining people are guarding the psi-supressor and the warp engines. You want access to anywhere else, you'll have to chance it and identify yourself. Course, when you do--we open fire with all ship's systems. This is a ship built and programmed by The Ghidoran Order, to serve only him and his cause. You won't escape."
Needing to shut off the psi-supressor, so as to regain his abilities, Peter realized that he needed access. Access that would help him, on a ship surely designed not to obey even one of his commands.
"None of my commands--but certainly the commands of----"
"Computer--grant me access to Deck Seven."
"Please identify."
Peter smiled, to hide his nervousness. This was all or nothing.
----------------------------------------
Saavik was bloodier than ever, but made her move as the last of the third wave of lematayas fell. The beasts were getting harder to kill, and she was getting more and more tired in and of this holo-hell.
Saavik waited til the scenario had again re-initialized. She then gave her command.
"Computer--recreate Vulcan Forge at Midday--with a large population of lematayas--safeties off."
The Chapel-sounding computer gave the expected response.
"Unable to comply. That scenario is already in use, in this holosuite."
But Saavik was ready for that.
"No, it is not. I am currently standing in the middle of an empty holo-matrix. Now, initiate the program, as I requested."
The computer corrected her.
"Sensors indicate that the requested program is already in progress."
She stood her ground.
"Computer, logically, if the desired program were in progress, then what valid, easily discernable reason could I have for requesting that it be activated? Your sensors are in error, despite all other evidence. Now, do as you are programmed to do--the only thing you are programmed to do--and enact my command."
In another 80 years, in a possible future, Saavik might have had to argue the fine points of her theory with the computer. As technology stood at that moment, though, the computer had neither the programming nor the available memory to do anything but what she said.
"Recreating Vulcan Forge at Midd----"
The entire scenario locked up, as did the irritating computer. Lematayas stood over each other, half-images frozen and derezzing simultaneously. With a small buzz, Saavik felt the psi-supressor go off line, as well, and opened the hidden arch.
Waiting outside was her instructor, naturally holding a phaser rifle.
"That's far enough, Cadet Kirk. I don't know how you survived that, but a phaser bolt is far more certain than any accident."
Saavik nodded.
"It most certainly is, teacher. Tell me--why didn't you simply program the computer to kill
me?"The woman smiled.
"Quite simple. Fingerprints. Our way, it was simply an accident. You'dve been
holo-beast droppings, and that would be that. Another Kirk bites the dust. Part of a
tragic tradition."She aimed and fired.
"Kind of like this."
Calm as ever, Saavik chose to deflect the bolt with her hand, then pulled the rifle over to her.
"Your psi-supressor is off-line. Now get in there."
The instructor was all arrogance as the door closed.
"I'll simply be found by my people, stationed throughout this complex."
Saavik shook her head.
"Only if they wish to pick through the--what did you call them--holo-beast droppings?"
The instructor turned, hearing hundreds upon hundreds of hungry growls.
The Computer had recalibrated.
"Vulcan Forge At Midday.....fatality. Terminating program."
------------------------------------------------
Peter Kirk answered the computer's request for ID.
"I am King Ghidorah, The Ancient Destroyer. I am currently inhabiting a local form that resembles a human. Obey my will, machine."
The young man had endured 10 years of semi-conscious listening to Admiralty rituals, all endlessly praising their three-headed demon. He now gambled hard on just how far they took their devotion to the beast.
"Welcome, Lord Ghidorah. This ship exists to serve your will, and your will alone. This unit awaits instruction."
The computer was able to scan Peter's power levels, and determine that he might well be telling the truth. All Order-built ships were ordered not to fire or move against anything that even remotely might be Ghidorah. Also, The Order knew what Peter did--that Ghidorah could and had inhabited relatively miniscule local forms, for close combat.
"Ship--my followers have become corrupted, and seek my death. Their blasphemy angers me. I direct you to protect my life as I wander this ship, in keeping with your program."
"It shall be so."
Peter was far from having complete control of the ship. It was entirely possible that Jepric and his bunch could negate his little trick. So he made for the psi-supressor, but in a roundabout manner--by walking in plain sight. The cadets shouted.
"Arrogant son of a---Fire!"
But the ship placed a force field around Peter, which knocked back most of the blasts, and absorbed all the others. As Peter had hoped, Jepric was informed of this, and drew the wrong conclusion.
"He must have already disabled the effects of the psi-supressor. He'll make for the engines, now. Concentrate our forces there."
Not wishing to bank upon the computer's error for too long, Peter moved into the brig containing the now-unguarded psi-supressor, and ripped it apart, well beyond repair or jury-rigging. Peter smiled as his eyes began to glow.
"Oh, its good to be back!"
Jepric heard from his computer.
"Illegal access of shuttlebay. Intruder almost through."
Jepric smiled.
"Computer--site to site transport of all personnel to Shuttlebay. Folks--the enemy is ours!"
All 24 remaining Cadets beamed there. Jepric shook his head as he saw Peter Kirk cornered, by the bay doors. All phasers were drawn, and charged.
"Goodbye, Mister Kirk!"
Kirk made a mock-wave with his upper right hand.
"B'bye. Computer--open shuttlebay doors."
"As you command, Lord Ghidorah."
Peter's power kept him steady, as the winds of an icy hell embraced all his enemies. One he yelled a special farewell to, as he met his fate.
"Jepric--you were a mooch, a liar, a debt-skipper, a whoremonger, a thief, a bigot, and an all-around lousy roommate!"
When all of them were gone, Peter closed the doors with his power.
"Computer--take me to Earth. Best possible speed."
He looked about him.
"Interesting ship, this Excelsior class."
----------------------------------------------
Sarek took their reports.
"What happened to your treacherous instructor?"
Saavik nodded.
"She stepped out for a bite. I hear tell she's lost weight."
"And your fellow cadets?"
Peter shrugged.
"Disciplinary problems. I was forced to expel them."
"What of your search for a joint apartment, here on campus?"
Peter looked sheepish.
"Father Sarek--may we use your office for the next two hours?"
The Ambassador remembered newlywed life.
"Only if you remember to call your mother, afterwards. Amanda worries so about you two."
Saavik shook her head.
"Whatever for?"
As they began, Sarek consulted his very odd ally in weaponry.
"Any success, Q?"
"Ah, Sarek. If you only knew how difficult it is to create a device that can do by itself what I can just by snapping my fingers! Its maddening. Still, any direct confrontation with the Order on the part of The Continuim might bring ole six-eyes around a little earlier than we'd like."
Sarek held up a device that looked like an ancient cigarette lighter.
"What, then, does this do?"
Q quickly grabbed it from him, and locked it away. He glared at his mortal ally.
"Sarek--please, PLEASE don't touch The Ultimate Nullifier. Its useless against Ghidorah. And if used here---Well, let's just say that it just wouldn't be pretty."
------------------------------------------
Admiral Teresa Bunson stood before the secret head of Section 31. He looked her over. He said one word.
"Disrobe."
Wanting what the Section Head had to offer, the second most powerful individual within Starfleet quickly did just that. He grinned.
"Get in our little merry go-round."
She questioned him.
"Has it been--properly prepared? To all my specifications?"
"My dear--those wrinkles and sags are about to become a thing of the past."
And for Teresa Bunson, the world began to spin. When it was through spinning, she saw some garbage being discarded, and felt nothing at all for it. She looked down.
"Even a washerboard stomach! I'm impressed."
The Director decided to take advantage of his prerogative.
"We don't eat, after all, my dear. But you, tonight, will make something of an exception."
Inwardly, the megapedophilic megalomaniac chafed as her will was completely overridden. But she was young again--she could afford this price.
---------------------------------------------
In class after class, Peter and Saavik aced test after test. Finals were soon, and they were not about to give The Hall an excuse to expel or discipline them.
So The Hall invented one.
Conducting their usual Lirpa session, the young marrieds noted that none of the crowd was the usual crew. Then, they noticed the psi-supressors.
"Uh-oh."
"Indeed, husband. Uh-Oh."
----------------------------------------------
At the Vulcan Embassy, Sarek and Q finished up. An odd limitation to the nigh-omnipotent being's power was the difficulty he faced in creating devices that duplicated his abilities. But now he had done just that. Q teleported the devices onto the young spies. Sarek queried him.
"Why, then, will you not simply rescue the children yourself? Surely Ghidorah's followers present no threat to you."
Q shrugged.
"Themselves, No. But--those soul-oaths they take for Ghidorah? They're for real. Each one of his perverted little servants is a conduit to him. One day, he'll suck them all up as a light snack. Not a very tasty way to go, eh?"
Q vanished, leaving Sarek alone with his thoughts.
"Indeed. Not 'tasty' at all."
--------------------------------------------
With their psi-supressor disablers now placed by their inner ears, Saavik and Peter began to move against their would-be captors.
"Watch it, Saavik--they're strong!"
"Not to encourage ruthlessness, Peter--but perhaps for safety's sake, we should end this now."
Seeing the endless rows of S31 cadets descend from the bleachers, Peter was forced to agree, and blasted at them with an energy-fireball.
"Ha-Do-Ken!"
But while they were pushed back and burned, the majority came through the smoke, unrelenting in their pursuit. Some had their clothes burned off. Some--had their skin burned off, revealing the metal underneath. Saavik then finally noticed how while they faced a crowd of over 700--there were only four faces between them. They were all duplicates of one another.
Husband And Wife said one word together.
"Androids!"
Gathering their energies together, Peter unleashed an attack he hoped would at least disable his captors.
"Spirit Bomb! GK--if this doesn't work, kid, I'll cut your tail off!"
While Saavik wondered who her husband was speaking to, she helped him steady the energies. The room glowed white--and the androids were melted. Peter collapsed.
"Wife--not--supposed--to--use--that--so-- quickly--get back to Embassy."
She knew he would recover soon. She also knew that they were vulnerable until he did. So she tried to leave the ruined gymnasium, her beloved in her arms.
But the way was blocked.
"Hello, Saavik."
"Hello, Doctor Chapel. Will you help me get my husband back to Sarek?"
Christine lunged at the two, with Saavik barely avoiding her grasp.
"No, my dear. Fraid' not. The head of 31's a dear, and he's told me to fetch you."
Saavik nodded.
"Then the line is drawn. A pity, Christine. I rather liked you."
Without dropping her precious cargo, Saavik did a roundhouse kick that fully connected with Chapel's head. Saavik saw the woman's face fall off. A circuit board with eyes now looked back at her.
"Kid--that really wasn't very nice."
Since the energy-attack had disabled the psi-supressor-shield, an exhausted Saavik was easily overtaken by a woman who had been killed and replaced on Exo 3--over 18 years before. Peter did not wake up. The Christine-thing secured her face, and scooped them up, and into a waiting transport.
-----------------------------------------------
They awoke, chained and drugged.
Before them was a beaming Admiral Cartwright.
"Cadets Kirk--meet The Cadets Kirk."
As both expected, two androids had been made in their likeness. Peter took note of the fact that he could no longer scan Bunson.
"Very good, Brock. Good to see you getting new companionship."
"Joke all you want, punk! But they are going to waltz into your Embassy and kill Sarek. The scandal will reach straight to T'Pau. We'll be forced to garrison troops on Vulcan. So--thanks to you two--when the coup goes forward, we will be in absolute control of the two central worlds."
The head of Section 31 now stepped out of the shadows. Cartwright pointed to his captives.
"The androids are perfect duplicates- -Doctor Korby. Do we need the originals?"
Korby nodded.
"For DNA analysis. Sarek is clever. These could be clones. I hate dealing with inferior phonies, after all."
Cartwright waved sarcastically as he left with Bunson.
"Goodbye, Misters Kirk!"
Korby turned to Chapel.
"Christine--I want a trace done of their family trees. I want to know more about them than they know about themselves."
"Yes, Roger."
Outside, Cartwright spoke with Bunson.
"Teresa--do you honestly think that Korby's sudden cooperativeness can be trusted, or relied upon?"
The new, improved, eternally young Teresa Bunson nodded.
"Our goals are the same, Brock. We all want Lord Ghidorah to come. Recent events--have caused me to see Roger as I never have before."
But as the Admirals and Androids and Assasins went forward, Christine Chapel did a read-out of Saavik's DNA. She matched it against known DNA on file. She learned who Saavik's parents were. The woman supposedly subsumed for almost two decades now said a single, critical word, emotion clearly breaking through as she did.
"Spock."
----------------------------------------------
Christine Chapel removed her face-plate and looked underneath. She remembered all the many lies. With a positronic brain, she could do just that perfectly.
-----------------------------------------------
2266
EXO III
Her right arm was gone. She screamed up at the man she still loved.
"Roger--why?!"
Korby just smiled and phasered away her other arm.
"Christine--you always complained to me of tight wrists. Now that won't be a problem. And---"
The next shot took off both her legs.
"You won't be needing those anymore."
Her face contorted in agony.
"Roger---please don't kill me."
He leaned over and kissed the limbless beauty.
"Kill you, Darling? What I'm doing to you right now will ensure that never happens. Now, Ruk is going to finish this chapter of your life--and the next one begins moments thereafter."
The last sight the butchered officer saw was the giant Ruk lower a blade, straight towards her neck.
Then she woke up. In bed. Next to Roger, while dinner was prepared. She would see Captain Kirk again, soon. But while the man she saw wasn't James Kirk--neither was she truly Christine Chapel anymore.
--------------------------------------------------
2268
MUDD'S PLANET
"So you see, my dear, if you were willing to become personal nurse to my greatness, Hartcourt Fenton Mudd The First, then the benefits you would deeerrriiiiivvvee......"
Mudd fell over, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Because that's exactly what he was. A figure came out from behind him. Christine gasped.
"Roger? No--you died--twice!"
Korby looked down at the still Mudd android.
"Harry--you talk too much."
He now looked at his former fiancee.
"Just checking in on you, Christine. How's the body holding up?"
She shook her head, angry and confused.
"What body--what do you mean? Who are you?"
"Well, I mean your body. Christine--don't you remember how you lived, after you died?"
With her shaking, he pulled her tunic down, exposing her chest. He then pulled away a layer of skin. Christine Chapel shrieked—because Christine Chapel was dead. The metal and plastics underneath her polymer skin proved that. Korby held her.
"Now, I want you to report on Kirk's state of mind, Christine. Just as I programmed you to do."
While the others were joking and plotting, Christine entered hell--and did as she was told.
"The death of his nephew has caused no diminution in his command effectiveness. But his passion for it is somewhat dulled."
She then asked a question.
"Roger--the androids here?"
He chuckled.
"Are like androids everywhere, darling. Created to fight Lord Ghidorah--but coming to serve him. When all is dust--we will rule. Only such as we can endure pure void."
Chapel felt as though she had already entered it.
------------------------------------------------
2284
MT. PARICUTIN, MEXICO - HQ FOR SECTION 31
Little by little, her service to 31 had eaten a little bit of her remaining soul. She resecured her face one last time.
"I am not going to kill Spock's daughter."
In the chamber where Peter and Saavik were bound, Korby was exultant.
"With a proper combination of your DNA and some applied cyber-tech--we may be just be able to precisely guide Lord Ghidorah's path. That is--if you're the genuine article."
"Roger?"
"Ahhh--Christine. What do you have for me?"
She smiled at Peter.
"You know, young man--I can remember everything in perfect detail, now? From the red sweater you were wearing when you came on board as a child, to your name precisely and accurately carved on your headstone."
Bound by neutronium chains and heavy psi-supressors, Peter and his wife exchanged a look after Christine's taunt. Korby grew impatient.
"Christine--the DNA analysis?"
"Oh, yes. I came to two conclusions. One--these two are not clones."
He asked the obvious.
"What about the second conclusion?"
Christine Chapel then permanently ended her engagement by severing Korby's android head, and phasering away the body. She held up the angry head.
"Roger--you talk too much."
Bereft of Korby's instructions, the other androids collapsed. Chapel freed the heroes.
"Did my clue work, Peter?"
He nodded, and Saavik answered.
"Peter did not own a red sweater, back then. And those who made the headstone got his middle initial wrong. But Doctor Chapel--what now?"
Suddenly but gently, Christine hugged and then kissed on the cheek a young woman who could have been her own daughter, in another life. Spock was a damned lucky man, and couldn't even recognize it--as was typical with the Vulcan she once loved.
"Now--you two clear out and save Sarek. Take Roger here, with you. It may prove useful."
"Christine!!! I ORDER YOUUUU---"
Chapel reclaimed her dignity--and tore her controller's tongue out.
"I have always wanted to do that. Now you kids get gone. I've--I've been Delilah long enough. I've also been blind long enough to just how much of me is inside this body. Be happy, Children. Be happy."
As the two buzzed the Pacific Coast, powers carrying them out of sensor range, Saavik asked a question.
"Peter--who is Delilah, and if Christine is not her any longer, who is she?"
In the far distance behind them, Paricutin and the android production facility for all of
Section 31 erupted in pure blue flame. Peter Kirk looked back."Samson, Saavik-kam. Samson, pushing down the pillars of the temple of the false god."
Android or no, they both teared as they remembered a gentle, happy woman who liked two lost children--and those children had liked her back.
Ignoring the possibility of exposure, they landed at the Vulcan Embassy compound. The dead bodies of lirpa-wielding giants told a horrid story.
But inside, things were a bit calmer. Sarek, the real one, sat and drank some water, and nodded at his children and agents. The android Saavik had been cut to ribbons of metal. The android Peter had been gutted, but was otherwise intact. Sarek looked like a man swimming in relief, after a huge release.
"Father?"
"Sri Sarek?"
The Ambassador and his students would be long in meditation, as Sarek reasserted his control over his disease. But for now, he let it control him. He hugged his boy, and kissed his granddaughter on the cheek.
"An intriguing experience, this all-out battle. One would think that lirpa training would be enough--but it pales in comparison. That said--once was enough."
Peter felt a little scared.
"Sri Sarek--how did you beat those two?"
The Full Vulcan was bloodied, sweaty, smiling and casually holding Saavik with obvious pride. Usually, Sarek's disease made him merely a Vulcan with outward emotions--that he fought to control. But in this moment, he actually seemed--human. Both young cadets found it almost disturbing.
"How did I beat them, Peter-Kam? Simple. They chose to taunt me--to tell me that the two of you were dead."
He looked over at the carnage.
"I had--an emotional reaction to this piece of misinformation."